But someone else had made a mistake.
And she’d paid the price.
Jeffrey didn’t rouse as she got up. She tugged on her boots, tucked the knife back into place and tied the laces. The Beretta went into her waistband at the small of her back. She slid her cell into a back pocket.
She hesitated before leaving the room, distracted by her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. She looked tired. She looked nothing like Sheara.
Sheara had been well prepared at all times. Her instincts had been sharp, her skills unmatched. Confidence and relentlessness had exuded from her.
What she saw staring back at her was the fringes of fear and no confidence at all. She fingered the necklace she always wore. Refused to think about the night he’d given it to her.
Olivia closed her eyes. Imagined her long black hair in a chic French twist. A tailored designer suit adorning her five-seven frame. That was Olivia Mills, psychologist.
Vanessa Clark, aka Sheara, was nowhere to be seen.
That one fact was the most dangerous part of what she was about to do.
Sheara could handle anything Landry or anyone else threw her way.
Olivia Mills was soft…compassionate.
She was a dead woman walking if she didn’t get her act together.
Her stomach grumbled, signaling that she needed to eat. She’d barely touched her breakfast. She reminded herself that she would need the energy. That was one thing Sheara and Olivia had in commonboth were too focused on other things to remember to eat. Great when she was spending hours a day in an elegant leather chair listening to the plight, real or imagined, of a patient. Not so great in survival mode.
As she wandered into the living room, she thought about this house. Landry had said that he’d borrowed it. That could mean several different things, including the possibility that they were here without an invitation. She shook her head. Breaking and entering was the least of her worries right now.
Landry wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. The bathroom door had been standing wide open when she passed and he hadn’t been in there, either.
She went to the back door, which was open, and peered beyond the screen door. He stood at the edge of the yard where the trees began. That same boundary she’d likened to her life just a few hours ago.
He stared into the woods a few moments before continuing, following the perimeter where the grass met the trees. Was he ensuring that they were alone out here in the middle of nowhere? Or was he simply killing time?
She pushed the screen door open and walked out onto the porch. She’d reached the last step down to the yard when Landry’s attention shifted in her direction. He crossed the yard and met her at the bottom of the steps.
“Are you worried that someone knows we’re here?”
“No one knows our location.”
She folded her arms over her chest, annoyed that he could sound so sure. “How can you be certain? We could have been tailed last night.”
“We weren’t.”
Irritation fired her blood. If she were honest with herself she’d have to admit that the part that bothered her most was that he could be so damn certain. That she had once been able to do that and no longer could, evidently, made bad matters worse.
“What about the owner, doesn’t he know you’re here?”
“No one knows, Nessa.”
She stiffened at his use of the nickname only he had used for her.
“Sorry.
Olivia,
” he amended.
He wasn’t sorry. She read the lie in his eyes.
Maybe her instincts were working better than she’d thought.
“Who owns this place?” She wasn’t going to let him get away with all the subterfuge. If they were going to work together she needed everything.
“No one important.” He gestured to the door. “We should go inside and discuss our first move.”
She held up a hand. “We’re not going anywhere until you start giving me the whole story.”
His hands braced on his hips, an indicator of his impatience.
Too bad.
“The house belongs to a friend I used to know.”
A woman.
The realization struck with startling furor.
“When did you know her?”
“Long before us.”
That muscle that always tightened in his jaw when he didn’t want to talk about something clenched as she watched.
“How long before us?”
She hadn’t meant to ask that. She sounded like a jealous lover. They weren’t lovers anymore. Hadn’t been for three years. Nothing connected them any longer except a dangerous past that could get them both killed in the next twenty-four hours or less.
“Years.”
She had to look away. Couldn’t bear the way he looked at her when he said that solitary word. As if he’d suffered…as if he’d cared that he’d lost someone who meant something to him.
Get past it. “So where is she now?”
His shoulders lifted in a show of indifference. “On vacation.”
The more questions she asked on the subject, the more interested in his personal life she appeared. That was not the impression she wanted to give. She wasn’t interested. She didn’t even care.
“So, let’s talk.” She turned on her heel and went back inside. He followed.
He picked up a folder from the kitchen countertop and joined her at the table.
The folder contained a map, handwritten notes and glossy head shots.
She picked up the first one. “Director Woods.”
Olivia had met him on several occasions. Had respected his decisions for the entire seven years she’d worked for the CIA.
The next photo was of Hamilton.
Deputy Director David Hamilton had saved her life.
She owed him the benefit of the doubt.
The next head shot was of a staff adviser to the former U.S. president, the one who’d been in the Oval Office when Olivia completed her last assignment for the CIA. This same adviser had, incredibly, moved even higher up the proverbial food chain under the new administration. Men like him always ensured their asses were covered. They knew secrets that could guarantee their passage straight through the Pearly Gates when the time came.
“You think Paul Echols had something to do with this?” She couldn’t see it. There were some aspects of the Agency’s work that even the president didn’t want to know. His adviser would simply use the rule that what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. The odds that he knew the whole story were minimal.
Landry shuffled through his handwritten notes. “Anyone who had access to the orders is a suspect, right?”
Maybe. The final photo was a face she didn’t immediately recognize. “Who’s this?” The man looked to be about forty or forty-five. Dark hair with a dusting of gray. Steely eyes. He looked aristocratic and somehow vaguely familiar.
“Andrew Page.”
“You think your superior was involved?”
Is
involved, she should have said. The idea that Page could be his anonymous source wasn’t lost on her. But she would have to depend upon him to supply the possible suspects from Interpol. She could only guess.
“What I said” he leaned back into his chair “was that anyone who had access to the orders is a suspect.”
She knew what he’d said. She could also read between the lines. “You don’t trust Page?” Her impression had always been that the two were close. Had that changed in the past three years?
“That’s the question of the hour.” He tapped each photo. “Who do we trust?”
Olivia wished he’d taken the time to shave. She blinked, forced her gaze back to the pile of photos. Few men could carry off the look. Unfortunately for her, Landry was one of those chosen few. The coal black whiskers emphasized those planes and angles of his inordinately handsome face that she’d just as soon ignore.
To get herself back on track, she dragged the map to her side of the table. “What do the Xs designate?” He’d drawn a black X in three locations, each surrounded by a square box. A couple of circles, drawn in red ink, highlighted two additional locations. All in the vicinity of Washington, D.C., less than one hundred miles from their current location.
“The Xs are where we can find our suspects for now. I can’t guarantee where they’ll be twenty-four hours from now. That’s why we have to act fast. This” he touched one of the red circles “is our current location. This” he indicated the other “is where my former superior is vacationing this week.”
“Your
former
superior?” Had she heard wrong?
“Yes.”
What the hell? She needed more details. “Andrew Page resigned from Interpol? He was fired? And then he decided to vacation in America?” She’d met Page once or twice.
Debonair
was the one word that summed him up best.
“Neither.” Landry shuffled his notes back into the folder. “I quit.”
His announcement sent shock waves reverberating through her. “You
left
Interpol?”
“Yes.”
Okay, he’d said that.
I quit.
She had to get past the astonishment and get to the facts.
“When? Why?” That information would be immensely helpful for reasons she didn’t understand just yet. She couldn’t believe it. He’d lived and breathed Interpol.
“Two years ago.”
New tremors of shock shuddered through her. This information cast a whole different light on the situation. “How can you possibly have access to the intelligence needed to conduct this operation if you’re out of the loop?” He was no better off than she was. What the hell were they doing here? If he was leading them into this blind…
Her gut clenched. Was this further proof that he was an enemy rather than an ally? Stop. She couldn’t keep waffling on the issue. She’d made a decision to trust him. If it was a mistake, she’d pay the price in the end. For now, she would operate under the assumption that they were allies.
“I still have my contacts.”
But he wasn’t looking her in the eye.
“Assuming you’re being totally on the up-and-up with me, what’s your plan?” She couldn’t keep wasting time trying to get him to come clean with her. She reminded herself that keeping certain aspects secret was par for the course. She had, and would do the same.
“We put all the players on alert.”
“By reactivating Sheara.” He’d set her up to prompt certain responses.
“I needed you to get out of L.A. for your protection. For your friend’s, as well. You know they would have used him to get to you.”
That she knew.
“I anticipated that you would go to Hamilton. My plan was to rendezvous with you there while Hamilton reacted to your abrupt appearance. Phase one is in motion.”
The urge to slug him again welled inside her but she had to hear the rest. He’d set her up and then waited for her to show and she’d done exactly that.
“Now that you’ve gone to Hamilton,” he said, moving on, “he indicated he would start an investigation of his own, yes? What we’re looking for is the reaction of others to his actions.”
“Every action has a reaction.” No doubt about that. “But that doesn’t make him the one who fingered me for elimination.”
Landry swept the hair back from his forehead with one long-fingered hand. “Let’s just say that he’s not at the top of my list, either.”
She didn’t want to notice those kinds of things about him, but her mind kept filtering through the memories of him using those strong hands to touch her.
Focus, Olivia.
“We can’t just sit here and wait for one of these guys to come calling,” she countered, chasing away the images. There had to be more to his plan than this.
He watched her closely a moment, most likely to gauge her reaction to what he was about to say. “You’re going to pay each one a visit, prod a more aggressive reaction. I’ll be your backup.”
Before she could respond, he went on, “I wish there was another way. But, unfortunately, it’s you they appear to want first and foremost. It has to be you who rattles each cage.”
“What am I supposed to offer?”
Those blue eyes stared straight into hers and the answer pierced her heart way before it penetrated her brain. “Me.”
O
livia had a lot more questions for Landry, but there wasn’t time.
The game had begun.
Landry placed another piece of tape on the wire tracing a path up the front of her torso. She managed not to shiver this time, which was a major accomplishment since she’d spent the past ten minutes doing just that as he wired her for sound.
“Another sec and we’ll be done here.” He checked his handiwork and stepped back. “I wish we had wireless but unfortunately this was all I could find on short notice. It’s not state-of-the-art but it’s top-notch.”
Olivia tugged her blouse down and let herself take a much-needed deep breath. That touching her didn’t appear to have fazed him made her all the more annoyed with herself.
Jeffrey hadn’t stopped pacing since he’d gotten up. Even as he’d nibbled at his lunch, chips and a sandwich, he’d been restless. He was concerned about her. He still thought they should call the authorities.
Landry slipped his earpiece into place. “Let’s take her for a test run.” He hitched his thumb toward the back door. “Go for fifty yards.”
Olivia nodded her agreement and slipped in her own earpiece. Hers was much less conspicuous than Landry’s, fitting like a tiny hearing aid.
As soon as Landry left the room, Jeffrey rushed over to her. “Olivia, this is outrageous.” His face, his posture, his entire being backed up his assertion. He was scared. For her mostly. “I don’t really understand what the two of you hope to accomplish but it sounds very dangerous for you. We should call off this whole thing.” He cupped her face with his hands. “As much as it seems I don’t know the real you, I don’t want you hurt.”
“I’ll be okay.” She took one of his hands in hers. “I’ve done this hundreds of times.” She didn’t mention how out of practice she was, since keeping him calm was her goal.
Jeffrey nodded as if he understood, but then resumed pacing around the kitchen. She turned away, stared out the window over the sink as Landry made his way to the edge of the yard.
She’d thought about the truth a few times in the past three years. Sure, it would have been nice to clear her name. To be free to reclaim her position at the Agency if she so chose. But she’d known something Landry had apparently overlooked. There wasn’t any going back. She had a new and completely satisfying career. Why would she want to go back to her old job? She shuddered inwardly at the memories that bobbed to the surface of that ominous lake of history. She worked so hard to keep that dark surface still and calm. Kept all those painful flashes from the past tightly compartmentalized beneath that glassy surface. She couldn’t go back. She never wanted to take another life, no matter the cause.
She couldn’t be that person anymore. At one time her work had been her calling. She’d felt the passion for serving her country as deeply as anyone who chooses to go into the priesthood. She’d started out as a typical field operative but her ability to infiltrate the enemy, as well as her unparalleled marksmanship, had gotten the Agency’s notice. Moving into the position of surgical assassin had been the logical progression.
Heat chased away the icy sensations of resignation as she toyed with the idea that Landry had spoken about more than clearing her name. He’d said that she mattered to him.
He’d watched her from afar all this time. Why hadn’t he contacted her sooner? Why let her endure the grief she’d suffered? Didn’t he realize how badly the idea that he’d betrayed her had damaged her? There was a part of her that would never recover from the devastation.
So many questions. Not nearly enough answers.
He was keeping secrets…still. She could feel it. He was going to offer himself as bait, on the premise that he had information they would need. Something, besides the obvious, was totally off here.
“Jeffrey’s right, you know.”
She tensed as Landry’s voice filled her senses.
“This is extremely dangerous,” he said. “I’m thinking I should do this alone.”
He’d been able to do that before…read her mind.
A new kind of frustration obliterated any aspect of reason she wanted to maintain.
From the corner of her eye she checked on Jeffrey. He’d finally grown weary of pacing and had retired to the sofa. The way he fidgeted, changed positions repeatedly, made her regret all the more palpable.
“Too late for second thoughts now,” she said, keeping her voice low enough not to attract Jeffrey’s attention. “We don’t have a choice.”
“I didn’t…” He let go a big breath. “I won’t let them hurt you again, Nessa. This time I’ll have your back the whole distance.”
The guilt steeped in his tone echoed in her earpiece, surprising her with its fervor. She fought the powerful sensations that comprehension evoked and ordered herself to focus.
“You never said what you’d been up to for the past three years.” Besides watching her from afar, she didn’t add.
“No, I didn’t.”
That certainly wasn’t the answer she’d been digging for. Why the evasiveness? More lies by omission?
She closed her eyes and shook her head in self-disgust. What did she expect? This was the life they had led…before.
“Communications are a go.” She wasn’t dragging this out any longer than necessary. He wanted to get to her, just like before. And just like before, he wouldn’t give as good as he got. She might be a fool but she wasn’t totally stupid. Their relationship had always left her desperate for more. She couldn’t go there again.
Time to get out of here.
“Jeffrey.” She walked into the living room. “We’ll be leaving in five minutes. We should gather our things.” There was no way to know if they’d be coming back here.
“You’re sure you’ll be all right with this plan?” he asked again, those brown eyes searching hers for reassurance.
“Sure. This isn’t nearly as dangerous as you think.”
“Don’t lie to him, Nessa.”
Olivia jerked the communications piece from her ear and muttered, “Jerk.”
Jeffrey, the strap of his bag hefted onto his shoulder, turned to her and frowned. “Hmm?”
She grabbed her overnight bag. “Nothing. I was thinking about Landry.”
“I hope this will be over soon,” he said as they moved up the hall. “Our neighbors may file a missing person’s report. Unlike your friend,” he said, pausing for a moment, “we had a life.”
Since Landry could hear every word they said via the wire taped to her torso, she imagined that he wouldn’t care for the reminder. She had the distinct impression that he didn’t like her relationship with Jeffrey. Good. There were a lot of things he’d done that she didn’t particularly like. She resisted the urge to tuck the earpiece back into place just to hear what snide remark he might make in response to Jeffrey’s comments, but that would be a mistake. The sound of his voice whispering in her ear was far too intimate for her comfort.
They’d loaded their bags into the Land Rover by the time Landry caught up with them. His obvious irritation gave Olivia a refreshing dose of glee.
“We’ve got plenty of time to check out the situation and get into place.” He stowed his bag in the cargo area and went around to the driver’s-side door.
Olivia settled into the passenger seat while Jeffrey loaded into the back.
The call to Director Woods had been made.
He was at the top of the suspect list. He had the most power. He wasn’t the director of the CIA, but he was the director of field operations. A high-ranking staffer.
It wasn’t totally out of the sphere of reality that Hamilton had briefed his superior as well as the special adviser to the president regarding the steps he’d taken to protect Olivia. It just didn’t feel right. He would have been risking so much when he could have kept his mouth shut and risked nothing. Had it been necessary for him to get authorization? She didn’t know.
She would soon know at least part of the truth. Woods’s reaction would tell the tale. She wasn’t prepared to label Hamilton as her traitor until she had proof. She’d trusted him for too long. She wasn’t naive enough to completely ignore the possibility, but she wasn’t going there first.
She’d taken the fall for the CIA three years ago and now they wanted more? Wasn’t one life enough to give? That was part of the big mystery. She had to know why her name had suddenly come up again. Why someone suddenly wanted her dead again.
If Woods was the one…
She’d do what? Shoot him? Slug him?
Watching Landry in her peripheral vision, her respiration reacted to the emotions churning inside her.
She couldn’t go into the operation like this. Control was key.
If they could stop whoever wanted her dead, maybe they could prove she was innocent of the accusations she’d had thrown at her three years ago.
The idea of clearing her name brought with it a calming effect. Maybe she did deserve to have her name cleared…to have her life back if she wanted it.
The Agency had done this to her and Landry had let it happen. That was the bottom line. Maybe he was back now out of some belated sense of guilt. She just didn’t care. She had to find out who the hell had started this new threat to her and find a way to end it. She had to protect Jeffrey. He was the one who didn’t deserve any of this. If she were lucky enough to clear her name in the process, well, that was great.
Better than great.
She focused on the burn of anger. She needed that heat to fuel her Sheara persona. When she was angry was the only time she felt any sort of connection to the person she used to be.
That connection might very well be the only thing that stood between her and certain death.
Her gaze shifted fully to the driver and she looked away just as quickly. She’d counted on him once and he’d let her down. Would this time be different?
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she needed him for this. They couldn’t fail.
The people who had held the power over her past were about to learn that Vanessa Clark wouldn’t be so damn easy to kill twice.
The rendezvous point was the Springfield Mall, only a few minutes from the nation’s Capitol. The food court would have been too obvious. She’d chosen the Victoria’s Secret store instead.
To ensure Woods didn’t set a trap for her, he wasn’t apprised of the exact location of the meet until he arrived on-site at 4:00 p.m.
This was the moment of truth. What high-ranking CIA official would put himself through the paces for a ghost from the past? If Woods showed, she would know without doubt that this was big. She would know that it wasn’t over as she’d thought for three years.
Olivia picked through a rack of silky lingerie as she covertly watched the front entrance to the store. Landry and Jeffrey were stationed on a bench only five or six yards outside the entrance. Landry wore an iPod on his belt to cover for the earpiece, which was considerably more noticeable than the one she had slipped into her ear. A New York Yankees ball cap camouflaged his face to some degree. Jeffrey sat on the other end of the bench, appearing engrossed in a hardback from the bookstore two stores down.
Landry would listen to the conversation and jump in to back her up if necessary.
Olivia had already checked out the dressing area as well as the employee exit in the rear. A fast getaway wouldn’t be a problem.
“Heads up.”
Her hand missed the next hanger as Landry’s voice reverberated softly in her ear.
“The target has arrived,” he warned.
Adrenaline roared like a fire through her veins. Olivia studied a lovely turquoise silk gown. “I see him,” she murmured.
He was there.
CIA Field Operations Director Arvin Woods entered the lingerie shop alone. But he wouldn’t be alone. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to figure out several of the patrons loitering in the spacious corridor outside the shop were probably undercover agents serving as his personal security and backup.
She maintained her position as he crossed to an adjacent rack of sexy nightwear and started to sift through the glamorous items, feigning interest.
Taking her time, she sized up the man she had not seen in three years. She remembered when he accepted the position eight years ago at age thirty-nine, the youngest director in the Agency’s history. His blond hair no doubt required help to stay that way these days. The tan hadn’t come from lying on the beach. The suit likely sported a designer label and a hefty price tag. He looked well, hadn’t really aged. Not like Hamilton. She imagined the major shit ran downhill. The deputy director wound up taking the heat more often than the director himself.
The possibility that she might have been his scapegoat sent a new surge of outrage roaring through her. The realization that he was here solely because she had called and asked him to be was all the proof she needed that Landry had told her the truth.
She moved to a table where delicate thongs were stacked in mounds of mint green, baby blue, girlie pink and virgin white. She felt the director’s scrutiny on her but she didn’t let the attention make her nervous. He wanted to be sure it was her before he approached.
Her hair was darker and longer than before. She’d stayed in shape out of habit more so than desire. Now she was glad she’d stuck with her workouts.
He walked in her direction, fingered the lacy edge of a pink thong as he paused at the table.
“Hello, Miss Clark.”
“Director Woods.”
“I’m sure you’ll understand when I say I thought you were dead.”
“I was.” She met that analyzing gray gaze. “Until someone resurrected me.”
He picked up the panties that appeared to strike his fancy, shifted his attention to the sexy feminine textures as he spoke. “Hamilton will certainly have some explaining to do.”
He sounded sincere. No way, however, would she assume he hadn’t known just because he said so. Sadly, no one did that anymore. At least not in this business.
“Hamilton did what he had to do to protect his agent.”
Those gray eyes bored into hers. “He lied to his superior. He allowed the Agency to believe you were dead and an international incident of significant proportions went unresolved as a result.”
“The explanation is simple,” she told him without hesitation. “I was set up to take the fall for someone else’s scheme. Now I want my life back. I want my name cleared. I want you to make that happen for me.”